


Unglückselig

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Along the Way [10]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (in relation to Caleb's backstory), Blood, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Episode: c02e018 Whispers of War, Episode: c02e049 A Game of Names, Human Experimentation, Injury, M/M, Restraints, Scars, Spoilers, Torture, oh hey Caleb's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-12-30 01:01:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: In a small city in the northern reaches of the Empire, Caleb's past finds him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _unglückselig_ \- unlucky, ill-fated, ill-omened
> 
> Most of the tags won't become relevant til chapter 3, but I like to warn people.
> 
> Spoilers for information found within Campaign 2: Episode 49- Game of Names, if not for that episode specifically, so be warned.

Fall’s always been Caleb’s favorite season.

The summer’s oppressively hot, and the effort it takes to tend fields means there’s never enough time to sit and study. Winter is always cold, candles are expensive, and the threat of death and starvation looms every year no matter how well they’ve prepared ahead of time. Spring comes too wet, and the plants that make Caleb’s nose itch and his eyes water start to come back after the break he’d had during the dead months.

But autumn? _Oh_ , how he loves autumn. The temperatures cool to more reasonable ranges, the leaves in the valley glow in the sun as they turn the shades of cozy hearth fires- reds, oranges, brilliant golds. The harvests come in, and while it’s a lot of work, it always carries with it a sense of cheer and accomplishment, of finally reaping the reward all the hard work of the previous season has brought them. The harvest festivals that follow are fun, lighthearted, an important boost in morale before the bleakness the incoming winter will bring.

For the first time in years, Caleb experiences the season with a renewed sense of joy. The years he was on his own were difficult; while he’d enjoyed the change from the swelter of summer, he knew fall meant the winter was coming, and surviving winter on his own was incredibly hard. He met Nott at the tail end of the previous winter, and a lot has changed in the past six months.

He has Nott, he has a whole _group_ , the Mighty Nein. He has Molly. It still boggles him sometimes, to realize that it isn’t just him; at times it terrifies him, but at this moment he’s in a surprisingly good mood, and he finds it pleasing rather than anxiety-inducing.

“Caleb! They have candied apples!”  
  
He looks over to see Nott standing next to a wooden cart that’s overflowing with treats. As he walks closer, he can spy the candied apples Nott’s excited about, as well as caramel apples, ears of roasted corn, and small packets of nuts and dried fruits. They’re in a small city north of Zadash, closer to the northern reaches of the Empire than he’s entirely comfortable with, but they don’t have any plans to go all the way up to Rexentrumm at the moment, so he’s able to quell the flare of panic that wants to rise every time he thinks about it.

“ _Ja_ , those look good, Nott. Do you want to pick some out for the others? Jester especially would enjoy one of the apples, what do you think?”

“She did like them a lot when we had them in Zadash. Maybe we should get her two just in case.”

Caleb nods in agreement and is reaching for his coin pouch when there’s a snarl of a voice from across the cart.

“ _Ermendrud_.”

He pauses in surprise, just for a second, and when he glances up he only has time to dive partially out of the way as a spell slams by him. He can feel the edge of ice it carries, nipping at his arm as it races past, and hears it hit somewhere behind him with a splintering crack as the people around him scream and scatter.

He’s already moving, trying to find where Nott has gone and reaching for his component pouch when he hears the same voice from before mutter something, and this time he isn’t fast enough. A wave of thunderous force rams into him, throwing him backwards and into a neighboring cart. He loses track for a moment, stunned from the impact; something warm is dripping down his forehead and into his eyes, and when he absently reaches to wipe it away, he discovers he’s bleeding.

“Don’t you _f_ _ucking_ hurt him!” Nott’s terrified voice snaps him back into focus and he looks up to see Nott standing between him and an advancing figure in the Empire's red and gold. The man is strong-looking, broad shouldered, with a many-pocketed belt underneath his tabard, and still more pouches strapped to his thighs; a warmage then, if he has to guess. Caleb’s gaze wanders up and he freezes, his blood going icy.

Oh gods above.

His hair’s longer than it was, plaited into a neat braid that barely falls over his shoulder, and his face has thinned, but Caleb recognizes the man instantly. Afterall, hasn’t his own face changed over the past decade as well, and the man had recognized _him_ easily enough. His mind flashes through half a dozen possibilities in the span of a few heartbeats, trying to think of a way out of the unexpected disaster the afternoon has become. He’s supposed to be safe, anonymous, hidden; how had Rupert _found_ him?

He snaps Frumpkin into being nearby and rolls forward onto his knees, grabbing Nott from behind, ignoring her squawk of surprise as he pulls her close. “ _Run_. Get help. Find me after.”, then turns and heaves her to the side as hard as he can, hoping she’ll forgive him later.

If there  _i_ _s_ a later.

He stumbles to his feet and turns to the advancing wizard, making sure his voice is loud enough to carry when he addresses him.

“ _Hallo_ Rupert _._ You’re a long way from Soltryce, aren’t you?”

He catches the small gasp from Nott that tells him she’s heard and understood, and that’s exactly what he wants. He takes heart in the sound of small footsteps running away, and asks Frumpkin to follow her. He’ll be better able to focus knowing Nott’s out of harm’s way, if only temporarily.

Rupert stands straighter, his eyes not leaving Caleb as his fingers start to move, weaving an arcane symbol in front of him.

“You have a lot of nerve, Ermendrud. **Hold**!”

His hands complete the motion, and Caleb tries to counterspell, but he’s too slow. His muscles seize, holding him in place, and he can do nothing but watch as his opponent stalks forward to stand in front of him. He’s of a height with Caleb, and this close Caleb can see he’s gained a few new scars since last he’s seen him. His hair’s a lighter blond, but his eyes are the same, still the deep brown he remembers, though all the warmth from his memory is absent.

“How fortuitous I should stumble upon you. We’ll be having some interesting conversation, you and I.” He reaches up and brushes Caleb’s hair from his face with one hand before sprinkling a pinch of sand with the other.

“ **Sleep** , Bren.”

Caleb fights it, but it’s not enough, and the last thing he sees as his eyes slide shut is Rupert’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly’s having a good day.

He and Beau have foregone wandering around the city and are enjoying a quiet afternoon of day drinking at their inn, the Twisted Quill. Molly’s still on his first tankard, Beau on her second, and he has to give it to the local brewers, they sure seem to know what they’re doing when it comes to cider. Molly’s mid-sip when the inn’s door flies open and a small figure dashes inside, pausing to look around before heading straight for them, a smaller furred creature darting in after them. He’s barely registered the figures as Nott and Frumpkin before the girl is at their side, gasping for breath as she tries to talk.

“Caleb! He- he took Caleb! We have to- to go get him back!”

Beau sits up from the lazy sprawl she’s in as Molly leans down, placing a steadying hand on Nott’s shoulder.

“Take a few deep breaths, Nott and try again. What happened?  _ Who  _ took Caleb?”

Nott hesitates, looking anxiously between them, and the sudden sinking dread in Molly’s stomach doesn’t feel great.

“It was someone from the Academy, from Soltryce.”

Well fuck.

Beau rubs a hand down her face as Molly curses their luck; they hadn’t had any shenanigans in a while, he supposes they were due. A quiet afternoon of pleasant day drinking? He really should have known better.

Nott looks like she’s about to hyperventilate, and Molly squeezes her shoulder again, trying to steady her. 

“Nott, did you see where they took him? Did they say what they wanted? Anything?”

Nott’s already shaking her head. “No! We- we were going to buy some candied apples from a cart and suddenly there was this man going ‘Ermendrud!’, which was really weird, and he tried to throw a spell at Caleb, but he got out of the way. But then he hit Caleb with something else, and he was thrown into a cart, and gods, he was  _ bleeding _ . I tried to get between them, but Caleb grabbed me and told me to run and get help and he  _ threw  _ me. Then I heard him say something about Soltryce, and I ran and now I’m here, and  _ what do we do _ ?!”

“I think,” Molly says, sitting back, “You should start at the beginning, tell us again what happened. Tell us everything you can remember. We’ll have to find the others, and then we’re going make a plan.”

Nott’s hands are clenched into tight fists, vibrating with anxiety, but overall she does look a little calmer. 

“And then what?”

“Well, Nott-” Molly sits up straight and cracks his knuckles. “Then we’re going to get our boy back.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd post a chapter every other day, but then I realized the non-Caleb POV chapters were super short, so I'm pairing them off. Happy Tuesday!
> 
> (also, this is the chapter a lot of the tags are for...please check the tags and do what's best for you!)

The first thing Caleb notices is the cold. He’s not entirely aware yet, but he’s sure there’s a reason he doesn’t want to be awake. It’s easier to sleep- less worry, less pain. He can only ignore the cold for so long though before it pulls him out of the soft shroud of slumber, and the more aware he becomes, the more he’s convinced he was right. Something’s wrong, and waking up is going to be disappointing.

Caleb opens his eyes, his vision hazy, and after blinking a few times feels his stomach clench unpleasantly. He’s in a cell, stone walls on three sides and heavy iron bars making up the fourth. There aren’t any windows, but there are a few lit torches in sconces outside the cell which cast dim, flickering light around him. The reason for the chill quickly becomes apparent- while he was asleep, someone partially stripped him down. His boots, coat, shirt, and arm wraps are gone, as is his scarf. The necklace is also gone, but if Rupert’s found him, it doesn’t really matter; he’s not thrilled those things are gone, but they’re all replaceable. He has to shut his eyes and count breaths about his books, though. Those are not so easily replaced. There are shackles on his ankles connected by a short chain, and on his wrists a heavy set of rigid anti-caster cuffs. They’ve cuffed him so his wrists are pinned one on top of the other with his fists facing opposite directions. He can’t reach the locks, and with his hands facing away from each other doing anything remotely dexterous will be difficult at best. He shivers, remembering the last time he’d worn a set. This is both better and worse- on the one hand, his fingers aren’t broken, though he has no doubt that could change easily. On the other hand, this set is much tighter, the sharp spikes that line the inside of each cuff already digging into the thin skin of his wrists, and he’s not even moving yet. He knows from unfortunate experience that if he’s not careful, the spikes will tear and rend, digging against delicate bone. He doesn’t appear to be bleeding yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

He doesn’t want to get up. He still feels tired, the last dregs of the Sleep spell fogging his mind, but he refuses to remain lying down if someone is going to come back to talk to him. They’ve rendered him largely helpless, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try for every advantage he can get. It takes him a few minutes to get upright without the use of his hands, but he manages to get to his knees before he falls back to sit against the wall. The stone is cold and damp against his bare back, the metal of the restraints chilling, sending a shiver through him and raising goosebumps across his skin. He rests his hands on his lap and waits, taking stock of what he’s got to work with.

They’ve taken most of his components, but not all of them. After some of the Mighty Nein’s more harrowing escapades, he’d wanted to be sure, or as much as he can be, that he’s always prepared and rarely unarmed. Nott and Molly had helped him add extra patches to his pants which had components sewn inside. It doesn’t look like they were found when he was searched and stripped, since they’re still stitched in place, and he sighs in relief. He’s not going to go for them now, not when he isn’t sure how long he has before someone comes to check on him.

His patience is rewarded when a few minutes later a heavy door opens and closes nearby, and quiet footsteps advance down the corridor. He tries to prepare himself, but it’s still a shock to see Rupert as he comes to stand in front of the bars of his cell. His hands are clasped behind his back, and his face is serene to the point of blankness; a minute passes where they just stare at each other. Normally Caleb would wait for him to speak first, but whatever unpleasantness this will be- and he has no illusions that it won’t be _extremely_ unpleasant- he’d rather get it over with.

“ _Igel_ , it has been a long time.”

Rupert’s mouth twitches into a frown, and it’s more reaction than Caleb expected to get.

“I’m curious, is it bravery or attempted cleverness that makes you call me that?”

Caleb produces a semblance of a smile and shrugs. “I would say nostalgia, actually.”

Rupert’s frown deepens, his voice turning derisive. “You always were sentimental. Why have you come back up here, why now?”

Caleb goes to lift a hand to run through his hair and winces as the cuffs prick at him. He shifts, shrugs again, hunching his shoulders, trying to look as unthreatening as he can. Caleb doesn’t look intimidating at the best of times, but usually he’s not trying to convince someone who’s seen him do the types of things Rupert has seen him do. “An accident of fate, it would seem. I was not going to go much further north than this, and hadn’t expected it to be a problem. How did you find me?”

He’s trying to be careful. He knows Rupert saw him interact with Nott, but he may not know about the rest of the Nein. If he doesn’t, Caleb’s not going to fill him in on it. The element of surprise will be helpful if they come for him. A small voice in his head, which sounds a lot like Nott, corrects him to say _when_ they come for him, not _if_ , but he’s trying to be pragmatic. Nott, Beau, and Molly all know what he’s done, more or less. They might have to explain to the others what happened and why, and if they’re weighing the balance of risk between trying to rescue him from the Empire’s custody and walking away safely, there’s really no question.

Rupert’s lips tip up in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Happy accident. I didn’t expect to see you, I’ll tell you that. Who were you with in the market?”

“A guide. It’s been a long time since I was up here, and I don’t know what all has changed, where dangers might lurk. Goblins are cheap; obviously I got what I paid for, eh?”

Eyes narrowing, Rupert frowns at him. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to find you consorting with goblins on top of everything else. Master Ikithon informed us of your bold escape from the asylum, Bren.” He takes a step closer to the bars, the look on his face aiming for unfeeling, but underneath there’s an edge of...something. It doesn’t take long for Caleb to realize it’s fury- cold, condensed, and diamond sharp.

“Do you have any idea what happened after you left?”

Caleb opens his mouth, closes it. He doesn’t know what the right thing to say is. He hasn’t seen Rupert in more than a decade; he’s on perilous footing in this conversation and he knows it. Rupert sneers at him, more of his anger starting to seep past his expression.

“Master Ikithon was perhaps worried about the wrong student breaking at that final test, hm?”

Caleb flinches again at the name, he can’t seem to help it. Rupert had just graduated from Soltryce when Trent took Caleb and his companions on as a special project. He was only a few years older than the Blumenthal three, and a strong mage, though not as innately talented as the three younger students. He’d served his role as Trent’s assistant with a fervor Caleb now realizes he should have found far more distressing.

Rupert opens the cell door and walks in, and for the first time, Caleb starts to worry. He’s never been scared of Rupert, not really; the whole time they trained together, everything he’s seen Rupert do, none of that had scared him. Compared to what Trent was training him and the others to do, Rupert had always faded to the background. He was an assistant, ubiquitous but unimportant. Now, though? He doesn’t know this man anymore, doesn’t know what’s happened in the intervening decade, how Trent might have bent him further to his will, what lies he’s been fed, what he’s capable of, and Caleb has no way to predict it. The uncertainty worms in, leaving trails of dread under his skin.

He stands in front of Caleb now, looming, and Caleb nearly shrinks back against the wall as he looks up at him. “You’re different than you were, though I guess madness changes a person. How did you recover? How did you escape the asylum?”

Caleb can’t help his bitter snort. “It’s called ‘Greater Restoration’; it’s a hell of a thing. You should give it a try.”

With no warning Rupert drops to a crouch and darts a hand out, faster than Caleb remembers him being, and grasps at the cuffs on Caleb’s wrists, his other hand twisting in the air as he breathes a word. Caleb’s nerves light up blinding white as his muscles temporarily seize; he thinks he screams- it feels like he does- and when Rupert lets go of the spell he’s left shaking in its wake. Rupert leans in close, and this time Caleb does press back, but there’s nowhere to go, Rupert’s grip on the cuffs is strong, holding him in place. He digs the fingers of his other hand into Caleb’s hair and yanks his head back so Caleb has to look up at him. His voice is quiet, practically a hiss, but it carries easily across the short distance between them.

“Do you have any idea what he was like after you were gone? He was angry, his investment wasted, gone in a literal puff of smoke, but you weren’t there to see that, were you? Astrid and Eodwulf convinced him not to kill you on the spot.” His face twists in an ugly sneer, and Caleb wishes he could sink down through the stone, anything to avoid this conversation. “He wanted to, you know, to kill you. Why keep you alive? You were a _liability_ \- weak, useless, an unnecessary loose end. But they had a moment of...of _sentimentality_.” He says it with enough venom that Caleb feels he should be able to see it drip from the other man’s mouth. He wants to argue, but everything Rupert says is true; he’s all the things he’s saying and worse. “And so off you went, to the asylum instead of into a shallow hole in the ground. I think that it was a good thing you broke. Better to find out then, than when it really mattered. Better to get rid of the useless chaf than keep it.” He leans back, letting go of the cuffs and Caleb’s hair, letting him fall back against the wall, but his intensity never wavers. “He took his disappointment out on all of us. You know how much he hates to be **disappointed**.” Rupert says the word with intent, with _power_ , and Caleb has a split second to recognize the spell before it hits, barely time to draw breath before he’s screaming, writhing, the pain overwhelming, inescapable as the tide. He knows this spell, Trent used to use it on them when he was especially displeased and he wanted to make a point; there was rarely a week that went by that year in the country where one of them didn’t suffer under it. There’s no escaping this, not until Rupert releases it or he passes out. The pain is _part_ of him, under his skin like knives, like fire and electricity and acid, and by the time Rupert lets it go he’s on the floor twitching, trying to recall how to breathe, how to think, momentarily stunned at the sudden ringing absence of pain. Rupert stands, his face closing off and going cold. “Do you know what it _did_ to Eodwulf and Astrid to see you like that? To see you fail so spectacularly and then have to deal with Ikithon after? How could you have done that to them? Even if you couldn’t be strong for yourself, you could have tried to be strong for _them_. They needed you, and what did you do? You _ran_ , you coward. Couldn’t even own up to your own failings.”

Caleb rolls over to his belly and pushes shakily up to his elbows and knees, unable to meet Rupert’s gaze. “I am sorry, I- I didn’t...I couldn’t-”

“Save your excuses. Tomorrow we ride for Rexentrumm.” Caleb can hear the smile in his voice, and it chills him more than the stone under him. “I am sure Master Ikithon and the others will be delighted to see you again.” He exits the cell, closing and locking the bars behind him before leaving back down the corridor he’d come from. Once he’s out of sight Caleb lets himself collapse back to the floor. He’ll need to regroup, assess, think, but for now, he closes his eyes and just breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know the Sleep spell only lasts a minute rules-as-written.  
> I also know that Power Word Pain isn't concentration.
> 
> Guess what?
> 
> *stage whisper* I do what I want.
> 
>  _igel_ \- hedgehog


	4. Chapter 4

They track down Jester and Fjord, and soon they’re sitting around a table back at the inn. Frumpkin has settled firmly in Nott’s lap, occasionally headbutting her hand when she gets agitated. She’s told them again what happened, now that they’re all there, answering questions as they go- was it was only the one man? Did she see what direction they went with Caleb? What did the man specifically say?

“He had some crownsguard come help him, but he had them take Caleb to the jail. We can’t just go in there and get him, that would be insane.” Nott’s hands clench momentarily in Frumpkin’s fur, eliciting a chirruped meow in response and another headbutt. “But we don’t know what they’re doing to him. What if they’re hurting him? What if they’re killing him? We can’t just _leave_ him there!”

“Nott, we’re not going to leave him there.” Molly’s absently shuffling his cards, fingers restlessly dancing over the gilt edges. “At least we know he’s not dead. If he were, Frumpkin wouldn’t be here.” Everyone glances briefly at the familiar before Molly continues. “But you’re right, if they’ve taken him to the stockade, we can’t just charge in and steal him back. Or at least not without a plan. But,” Molly looks at Beau and Nott, eyebrows raised. “We’ve precious little information as it is. I don’t think we can afford to hold anything back. It’s very difficult to plan when not everyone knows everything. So I think we need to share with the group.”

Beau and Nott exchange a look, but Molly holds firm. “I know, I feel the same, but I think we need to. You can blame it all on me later once we have him, but in the meantime, we need to _get him back_.”

“Molly-”

“I know, Nott.” Molly puts the cards down and reaches over to put a hand on her shoulder. “I know, but I’d rather have him back alive, safe and angry with me, than dead with his secrets intact. Call me selfish, but my first priority is to get him back. And I think to have our best shot at it, everyone needs to know.”

Nott still doesn’t look entirely happy about it, but she nods, turning to Beau, giving her the go-ahead.

Beau takes a deep breath and clears her throat, making sure she has everyone’s attention. She shares the story, interrupted occasionally by interjections from Nott or Molly, of Caleb- of how he’d attended Soltryce, how he’d been brainwashed, and tricked, and twisted by Ikithon into a killer.

Of how he’d killed his parents.

Molly doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath from Fjord or the quiet tears from Jester, and by the time Beau finishes speaking a half hour later, there’s silence for a moment at the table before Fjord lets loose with a string of invective.

“Gods damnit fucking _assballs_.” Fjord takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Well, that explains a lot. I feel bad he didn’t have the choice to decide to tell us himself,” Fjord scrubs a hand through his hair. “But it’s good to have some idea what we might be up against.”

“Oh _Caleb…_ ” Jester sniffles again, wiping at her eyes before getting a determined look on her face. “We are going to get him back, and we are going to show him that it isn’t his fault and that we love him, and we will make sure _nobody_ hurts him again!”

“Jester dear, not that all of that isn’t terribly commendable-” Molly chooses his words carefully; this isn’t at all how he’d expected the others to find out. “Caleb has some ideas in his head about whose fault that whole shit show was.” At Jester’s indignant expression, Molly holds his hands up, placating. “ _I_ don’t feel that way, mind you. I place the blame fully on the fucker who was training him, but Caleb doesn’t see it that way. We all feel pretty strongly to the contrary-” Molly looks around the table and sees nods of agreement, with a quiet, ‘Of fucking _course._ ’ from Fjord. “- but it’s going to be difficult for him to find out that you suddenly know about it. He’s convinced himself that he’s a monster that we only barely tolerate at best. While that is patently untrue, it means he’s got some expectations of what your reactions will be if you ever find out. He’s probably not going to take it well.”

Jester’s lower lip quivers again and Molly reaches over to take her hand and give it a squeeze. “Our first goal is to get him back and make sure he’s safe. We just need to be prepared for what happens after.”

She nods, her face settling into a determined expression. “Right.”

Molly takes a deep breath, then looks around the table. “Alright then. How do we get him back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaaaah happy Thursday! :D


	5. Chapter 5

He gives himself ten minutes.

Ten minutes to rest, to pull himself together again. Once the time passes, he takes a deep breath and pushes back up to sitting with a quiet groan. It’s a slow process- his wrists throb angrily in the cuffs, and in the dim light he can see the glistening red dripping from under the metal bands where the spikes ripped and tore while he thrashed. He gets himself upright and leaning against the wall and takes another ten minutes to rest. His nerves still sing with the remembered pain from Rupert’s spells; he’d forgotten how much that one spell hurt, had maybe willfully forgotten. He isn’t used to that sort of pain anymore, which he knows Nott would think of as a good thing, but right now he can’t help but disagree. He’d rather continue to rest, but he wants to be prepared when the time comes to move. Caleb carefully reaches for one of the patches on his pants. It’s awkward to reach, and it makes the spikes on the cuffs dig in further, but he grits his teeth and ignores it as best he can. He grips the slightly loose corner of the patch and pulls, ripping the stitches just enough that he can reach his fingers inside, pulling out a small piece of honeycomb and the dried snake’s tongue that had been concealed within and waits, planning. He has the basis of an idea, a hint of a plan, and while he really hopes the others are coming, he doesn’t want to put all his eggs in that basket. He knows they’re sentimental fools, and he knows Nott and Molly will want to fight for him, probably Beau as well, but he can’t help but hope that smarter heads prevail and they won’t do anything  _ too  _ stupid.

He rests, but doesn’t sleep, not wanting to be caught unawares. Hours pass, and near dawn he hears the door at the end of the hallway open. He pops the bit of honeycomb into his mouth, hides the snake tongue in one of his fists, and does his utmost to look suitably cowed and miserable; it isn’t much of a stretch.

Footsteps stop outside the bars to his cell, and when he looks up he has to school his face to keep from smiling. It’s not Rupert, but a guard.  _ Wunderbar _ .

“Get up, it’s time to go.”

Caleb makes a show of struggling to stand and wincing as his arms jostle. “Please... _ bitte _ ...I- I would never  **suggest** you leave me unbound, but-” Caleb crushes the bit of honeycomb against the side of his teeth, letting the sticky sweetness coat his tongue. “These cuffs are so tight. Is there a larger size perhaps? I am only concerned that these- well, they are so small, they may cause irreparable damage, and I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

Caleb waits, hardly daring to breathe, and almost collapses under the weight of relief as he feels the spell take hold.

“Well,” the guard looks at Caleb’s bloodied wrists, then nods. “Right. Hold on.” He walks away from the bars and Caleb closes his eyes a moment, taking an unsteady breath. Good, this is good; all according to plan. He opens his eyes as the guard’s footsteps get closer again.

“I’m going to open the door. No funny business, you got me?”

“ _ Ja _ , got it. No need to worry.”

The guard opens the bars and walks in, another set of anti-caster cuffs in his hands. “Hold your arms out.”

Caleb lifts his arms and this time he doesn’t have to pretend; the movement pulls at his wrists, the points on the cuffs digging into already tender flesh. The guard reaches out, a key in his hands, and unlocks first one cuff, then the other, temporarily releasing Caleb’s wrists before tossing the first set of cuffs to the side to land with a loud clang on the stone floor. Caleb sucks in a shuddering breath and tries not to look at the mess of his wrists as the guard pulls out the second set of cuffs. They’re noticeably bigger than the first set, and as he locks Caleb’s hands together again, Caleb does a quick risk assessment. He’s thinks they’re big enough he’ll be able to pull one or both of his hands out, but he can’t speak to what state his hands will be in after. He needs to be able to move his hands and arms freely. If he can do that, he can cast. If he can cast, he has a much better chance of escape. The guard clicks the second cuff closed, locking it, then gets a grip on Caleb’s upper arm and pulls.

“Come on, then, we’re already running late.” He gives a sharp tug and Caleb stumbles after, tripping over the length of chain between the shackles on his ankles. It’s a slow shuffle up and out of the jail’s holding area, and Caleb blinks as he’s brought out into the bright morning sunshine of a crisp fall day.

He’s led toward a cart; he’s seen carts like this, though he’s never ridden inside one. The front is normal, with the perch for the drivers up front near the horses. The back of the cart is split in two, with the half closest to the drivers barred in with a top on it to form a caged section. It’s small enough Caleb will have to sit on the floor but that’s ok; he hopes to not be in it too long.

There’s two more guards waiting in the cart to haul Caleb up and into the back, and Caleb can’t help the cry of pain as his arms are pulled, and by extension, his wrists as well. In the morning light it’s easy to see the fresh drops of blood that fall to the floor of the cart as he’s shoved into the caged section, the door clanging shut behind him and locking into place.

“Good morning, Bren.”

He looks up, panting for breath, and there’s Rupert, striding forward in travel leathers, his component pouches neatly in place and the red and gold tabard of his uniform snapping in the morning breeze. He finishes tugging on a riding glove, and gazes into the cart, giving Caleb a look he can’t easily decipher. 

“I trust you’re ready for travel. I’ve been in contact with Master Ikithon; he’s looking forward to seeing you again soon.” Rupert looks over at one of the guards and nods, and as he turns away a heavy tarp falls over the top of the caged section of the cart, blocking Caleb’s view of anything past the bars, dropping him into near darkness. The cart jolts into motion and knocks him painfully against the side of the cage, but once they're moving he's able to settle, even if it isn’t terribly comfortable with the cold bars digging into his bare back. He thinks about the best time to escape, and he thinks waiting might be best. If he tries anything now they might be expecting it, and if he’s honest with himself, he’s exhausted. If he can get some rest, then he’ll be better prepared to try to escape later when their guard is down. Once the sun starts to go down, it will be easier to slip the cuffs unnoticed, and the guards might be lulled into a sense of complacency if he doesn’t fight during the day. Right now his chances are pretty slim; with the tarp covering his section of the cart he can’t target effectively and is more likely to miss than not.

As the day wears on he dozes to pass the time, and can feel some of his energy return, though it does nothing for the pain that shoots up his arms from his wrists at every bump in the road, or to ease his growing thirst. The light through the tarp starts to fade, and he recalculates, tries to gauge how cruel he thinks Rupert has grown. The regular guards might be more biddable, but he thinks back on what he knows of Rupert, of what he’s seen of him now, and makes a decision, hoping that the man is as vindictive as Caleb thinks he is.

“Please-” He doesn’t have to try to make his voice rough, the stretch of time without water having left his throat dry and raspy. “Please-  _ bitte _ , let me out. I won’t try anything.”

He waits, and gets no response.

“Please, even just some water-”

“If you continue your whining, I will  _ make  _ you stop, Ermendrud.”

Rupert’s voice comes from alongside the cart. The threat in the words gives Caleb pause, but he pushes past it, using everything he’s learned from them. Rupert is his biggest obstacle to escape, and he’s riding alongside, not behind. His words also mean they’re unlikely to let Caleb out or even uncover him until they absolutely have to. If he can be quiet enough, stealthy enough,  _ lucky _ enough, there’s the very small chance he might make an escape without ever having to fight.

He hasn’t properly slept, so he doesn’t have all his magic; he hadn’t used a lot before his first encounter with Rupert the day before, but he still needs to make the spells he has count. With a sigh of dismay, he starts the unfortunate but necessary process of getting out of the cuffs. It’s slow-going, trying to not damage himself so badly he can’t cast, but he can feel the minutes slipping by as he finally gets one hand free. It’s easy to feel the blood slicking wet over his skin, and he’s thankful for the dimming light of the cage so he can’t actually see how bad it is. He flexes his hand; while it hurts quite a lot, his wrist pulsing with pain and hand covered in bloody stinging furrows, he has the dexterity to cast and that’s all that matters. Another five minutes sees his other hand free, and he gently sets the cuffs down next to him. He mourns the fact he has to use magic to unlock the shackles at his ankles, but they’re not loose enough to get them off otherwise. The shackles get set carefully next to the wrist cuffs, and he crawls forward until he finds the door to the cage. A whispered word later and there’s the dull  _ thunk _ of the lock opening. He holds his breath, waiting to see if anyone’s noticed, but it seems the sound has been lost over the noise of the cart itself and the horses. Caleb sends a quick prayer to whoever is amenable to assisting down-on-their-luck wizards, and eases the door of the cage open just enough to stick a hand through and grab the edge of the tarp, lifting it an inch to peer outside.

The sun is dipping below the tops of the nearby trees, sending shadows across the road from the treeline, but from the brief glimpse he takes, it doesn’t appear that there’s anyone riding rear guard. It’s the sort of luck he’s not usually blessed with, but he’ll take any advantage he can get. He takes a few breaths to settle himself, but the smell of his own blood in such an enclosed space ruins the effect. He pushes the door of the cage all the way open and crawls out from under the tarp, expecting any moment for a shout of alarm to go up, but there’s nothing. Staying low, he wriggles to the end of the cart and takes a quick glance to either side. He sees the back haunches of horses, but they’re both forward enough he doesn’t think they’ll immediately see him if he drops off the back. There are so many ifs for him to worry about, it’s near-paralyzing.  _ If  _ he can drop to the road unseen, and  _ if  _ he can manage not to cry out when he hits the ground and alert the whole escort.  _ If  _ he can make it to the treeline, and  _ if  _ he can stop himself bleeding out, can stop himself collapsing in the woods and being eaten by a bear-

But he’s come this far already, and if he really thinks about it he realizes he’d rather be killed in the attempt or eaten by a bear than get dragged back to Ikithon, which means it’s hardly a choice. He takes a deep breath and lets it out as much as he can before he rolls off the back of the cart.

Caleb hits the ground hard, but doesn’t have the air to make a noise. He’s stunned a moment, but quickly recovers and sees the cart is still rolling forward without him. They haven’t noticed. Picking himself up he cringes, pulling his hands in close to his chest. The treeline isn’t far off the road, maybe fifteen yards at the most; he might actually have a chance.

Caleb’s only gone a few feet before the cry he’d been worried about goes up, shouts calling from up the road as they realize he’s gone. He breaks into a run as a bolt of flame zips by his bare shoulder, the heat of it making his skin prickle as it flies by.

He almost makes it.

There’s only a few more yards to go when Rupert’s voice rings out from nearby, yelling his name, and again, the power and intent behind it registers a split second before the pain hits, sending Caleb to the ground with a strangled scream. There are rocks from the roadside digging and cutting into him as he writhes, but they’re negligible compared to the agony shooting along his nerves, lighting his whole body up from the inside. He tries to fight through it, to crawl for the treeline; Caleb doesn’t make it more than a few inches before there’s a booted foot pressing down between his shoulder blades, pinning him in place.

“Why do you make things so difficult? If you’d just stayed put all of this would be unnecessary.” Rupert lifts his foot and uses it to kick Caleb over onto his back as his whole body arches in pain. “I could just keep you like this until you pass out. Might drive home the lesson for you. This is inevitable; you’re going back to Ikithon whether you like it or not. It will hurt less if you give in and stop fighting it.”

Caleb blindly grabs for Rupert’s leg, trying to beg him to release the spell, but his movements are uncoordinated, and he can’t get any words out other than incoherent cries. Rupert smirks down at him, and opens his mouth to say something when there’s a near-imperceptible whistle through the air and his eyes go wide, a crossbow bolt sprouting from his throat. Another follows a second later and buries itself right next to the first. Rupert drops, landing next to Caleb, his eyes wide and unseeing; Caleb can’t appreciate it because the spell isn’t dissipating, is still going, and he’s in no position to stop it.

He’s clawing at the ground and crying, begging- for mercy or death, whatever will make the pain stop. It barely registers when someone nearby calls his name, and he can’t parse the words that follow, but suddenly the spell releases, and he’s left panting, exhausted, and trembling in the dirt.

“Caleb!” Jester skids to her knees next to him, hands hovering over him like she’s not sure what to do first. “Are you ok? Did it work? I don’t know what was happening, but I tried to dispel it and you stopped screaming, so does that mean it worked?”

His vision tunnels, too overwhelmed to deal with being awake any longer now that the pain has stopped, and he tips over into unconsciousness easy as breathing, Jester’s frantic voice following him down into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _wunderbar_ \- wonderful  
>  _bitte_ \- please
> 
> As with previous works in this series, I will point out that in canon, when Caleb uses Knock, it doesn't make the sound it says in RAW. It may be an oversight, but I'm running with it, and letting Caleb cast Knock quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

They don’t dare go back to the town after the fight.

Caleb’s arrest was very public, and it would be far too questionable for them to suddenly reappear with him after. Mutual agreement sees them traveling south, skirting the town and traveling on a few more miles before they pull as far off the road as they can to make camp. By mutual agreement it’s decided that Molly should talk to Caleb first, feel things out before bringing everyone else into it; Molly’s sitting with Caleb in the back of their cart, Caleb lying down with his head pillowed on Molly’s lap as the rest of the Nein prep camp for the night.

Caleb hasn’t woken up yet, though Jester’s healed him and assures Molly he’ll be fine. Molly runs a thumb over one of Caleb’s wrists, feels the uneven surface of scarring the wounds left behind, the newly healed marks still livid against pale skin. If Molly ever meets the person who invented the spiked cuffs, he’s going to kill them, slowly and painfully. This is the second time Caleb’s been caught in them since Molly met him, and that’s two times too many as far as Molly’s concerned. It’s only because he’s paying such close attention that he notices the small signs of Caleb starting to wake- his breath picking up, the small twitches of his fingers, the flutter of eyelashes. Molly’s already making soothing sounds as Caleb’s eyes flick open, darting around to see where he is.

“You’re alright, love, you’re in the cart with me. We’ve made camp for the night, the others are safe. We have you, it’s okay.”

For a moment Molly isn’t sure if Caleb hears him, but then their eyes meet and Caleb sags back down to the floor of the cart, his hands coming up to cover his face; they’re shaking, and Molly frowns. “Is it alright if I touch you, _cariad_?”

It takes Caleb a minute to answer, but Molly is more than happy to give it to him. When Caleb finally nods, Molly reaches down to take one of his hands, squeezing it and lifting it to place a kiss to Caleb’s knuckles. “We’ll start easy. Does anything hurt right now? Anything we need Jester to look at?”

Caleb thinks, looks like he’s taking the question seriously if the furrow between his brows is any indication; his voice is rough and quiet when he answers. “N-no, no, I think I’m alright.”

He doesn’t sound very certain, but Molly lets it go for the moment. “Alright, good. Are you hungry or thirsty?”

“ _Water_. Please.” Caleb shifts like he’s trying to sit up, and Molly puts a light hand on his shoulder, urging him still.

“Shh, I’ve got it, hold on.” He reaches for the water skin next to him and releases Caleb’s hand so he can uncork it. He helps Caleb sit up enough he won’t choke, and holds the skin to Caleb’s lips so he can drink. Molly pulls it away after a moment, heart twisting at Caleb’s quiet sound of distress, even though Caleb doesn’t so much as grab for the water skin. “I know, love, I know you want more, but we’re going slow. I don’t want you to get sick. If you’re okay in a few minutes then you can have more, alright?”

Caleb nods, and Molly recorks the water skin, setting it aside. “Do you want to sit up, or keep lying down?”

“Up, please.”

Molly gets his hands under Caleb’s shoulders, easing him upright until he’s sitting with his back against the side of the cart, then slides an arm around him, pulling him close so Caleb’s tucked in against him. He places a kiss to Caleb’s hair, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Alright?”

“ _Ja_ , _ja_ I’m fine.” Caleb makes a noise before Molly can say anything. “Well. Perhaps ‘fine’ is overselling it. But I am not bleeding profusely, which I think I was before, and I am not in pain, so it’s an improvement.”

Molly takes Caleb’s hand again, running his thumb over the back in what he hopes is a soothing manner “I think we should probably talk.” Caleb flinches minutely, only the fact he’s pressed against Molly’s side allowing him to catch it. “Shh, love, nobody’s upset with you. But I wanted to catch you up on things and make sure we’re on the same page before the others poke their noses in.”

Caleb nods. “ _Ja_ , okay. What would you like to know? I’m assuming Nott told you it was someone from Soltryce?”

“That she did. And just so you know, the fucker’s dead. He can’t hurt you.”

“Ah. That is- hm. That is good to hear.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, who was he?”

“Rupert. He was Ikithon’s personal assistant when I was a student. He was a passable mage, but didn’t seem to have much ambition beyond doing whatever Trent told him to do. I haven’t thought of him in years, but apparently he still recognized me.”

Molly hums in acknowledgement. “If he was there while Ikithon was torturing you and did nothing, then I’m glad he’s dead. Everyone else in the escort is also dead, by the way. None of them are going to go back and tell anyone anything.”

Caleb nods, then startles, his free hand going to his neck and patting around until he finds what he’s looking for- his pendant, laying in the hollow of his throat, tucked under the borrowed shirt he’s wearing.

“We made sure we found that- your books and other things, too, by the way- and had it back on you as soon as we could. We didn’t know if you had to sit with it awhile, or if it would just work, but just in case-” Caleb goes tense under his hands, his breaths coming short and quick.

“How- how long have we been here? How long has it been since you put the necklace back on me? How far-”  
“Caleb.” Molly turns to face him more fully, noting the panic starting to overtake Caleb’s features and keeps one hand on his shoulder and uses the other to cup Caleb’s jaw, his thumb sweeping back and forth over Caleb’s cheek. “Caleb, love, I need you to breathe, can you do that? In and out, with me.”

It takes a few minutes, but Caleb grows calmer, panic receding, and Molly smiles, pulling him in to kiss his forehead. “It’s been hours now. We started moving as soon as we had you, only stopped long enough so Jester could heal you.” At this Caleb looks down to examine his wrists for the first time, turning them to take in the new scarring while Molly continues on. “We’re south of the town we started in and we’re going to keep that way for awhile, get you far from the capital, maybe head back to Zadash for a bit. Meanwhile, if nobody has appeared so far, that means you have the time to get settled with the necklace. If they were going to suddenly pop in, they would have already, right?”

Caleb takes a shuddering breath and lets it go, letting his hands fall back to his lap as he nods. “ _Ja_ , you are correct. I just-”

“You panicked. A perfectly understandable reaction, I assure you. But it’s alright, we’re not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Caleb levels a pained look at Molly from under his hair. “I don’t think you understand, Mollymauk, if the man up north finds me, nothing will stop him from whatever he intends to do. None of you will be able to stop it. _I_ certainly will not be able to stop it. _None_ of you will be safe.”

Molly sighs, and takes Caleb’s hands in his again. “I know you feel that way, love, and I don’t want to seem dismissive of what you’re saying, but that ‘man up north’? He’s still just a man. There are limits to his power, to his abilities. He’s not a god, Caleb.”

Tugging his hands back from Molly, Caleb rubs at his arm, and Molly isn’t sure he’s aware he’s doing it until Caleb looks down and runs his fingertips over the faint scarring there. Molly’s seen the lines before, on both arms; thin slivers of raised flesh, oddly sheened against the otherwise pale skin, running wrist to elbow. He’s never asked about them, figuring if Caleb wanted him to know, he’d tell him. He’s had suspicions, but it’s never been worth making Caleb uncomfortable just to sate his curiosity.

“He used to experiment, you know. On us.”

Molly doesn’t know how to interpret that, but there’s no way it’s anything good. “Experiment?”

Caleb hums and nods, eyes still on his arm, pressing his fingers firmly into one of the lines to watch the skin around it go pale, then pink when he releases, the line standing out more clearly. “ _Ja_ , he- there were crystals, he would-” Caleb pinches his thumb and forefinger together and draws them down over his arm in a quick slicing motion. “He would slide the crystals under our skin, to see what they would do, to try to make us more powerful.”

Molly’s beyond horrified, but Caleb doesn’t appear to notice.

“It worked, to an extent, but it wasn’t as controllable as he wanted. _We_ were not as controllable. The power surges were unpredictable, and he doesn’t like unpredictable, so he removed them. We recovered, as you can see. That was only a few weeks out of the year we were with him. We healed quickly, and moved on to other things. It wasn’t as bad as what came later.”

Molly shudders, and Caleb glances up at him, brows furrowed. “ _Was_?”

“Okay, first of all, that is...I don’t have the words to describe how fucked up that is. Every time I think I can’t be more horrified or pissed off at that man, I’m proven wrong, and I fucking _hate_ it. He’s a monster, and you know I don’t throw that word around lightly.”

“ _Ja_ , well.” Caleb shrugs. “You are not going to get much of an argument from me on the matter.”

Molly rubs a hand over his face. “While we’re almost sort of on the topic…”

Caleb quirks an eyebrow at him, and Molly hopes he’s not about to ruin everything.

“I told them, Jester and Fjord, about your past. We didn’t know for sure what we were going up against, just that Soltryce was involved, and I made the decision to tell them. I thought we’d have a better chance of getting you back safely if everyone knew what we might be dealing with.” Molly braces himself, waiting for a reaction, an outburst, _something_ , but all he gets is a nod of understanding and a resigned sigh.

“ _Ja_ , I thought you might. I will not say I am, eh, _excited_ for them to know, but, perhaps it is for the best.” He seems to be taking it well, but he’s still not meeting Molly’s eyes, and Molly has to be sure Caleb understands.

“They’re not upset with you, Caleb. I know you think people should react a certain way, but they’re not- they’re not angry, or upset, or mad at you. They’re upset and worried _for_ you. They’re upset that you’ve been hurt, angry that the fucker did all that to you and your friends. _None_ of that is directed at you, and I want to be sure you get that.”

Caleb hunches in on himself, shoulders curving forward, and as much as Molly wants to reach out and comfort him, he wills himself to patience, to give Caleb time to adjust to the idea. Caleb shakes his head, a hand rising to rub over his face and then up to tug at his hair before dropping back down to his lap.

“Why don’t you all-” Caleb pauses, makes a frustrated noise, tries again. “I don’t-” He looks up at Molly with a look of utter confusion and bewilderment, and Molly can’t help himself anymore. He reaches out and pulls Caleb close, putting his arms around him as Caleb curls in against him, voice muffled against the crook of Molly’s shoulder when he manages to speak. “I don’t understand why you all don’t seem to _care_ . I murdered my parents, Mollymauk, and they are not the only ones. I hurt so many people, _so many_ , and for what? For an Empire that cares more for power and itself than anyone else. For all I know, every single person I hurt or murdered was innocent. I am a monster, a piece of shit, and I don’t- how do none of you _care_?”

Molly takes his time, rocking Caleb in his arms as he considers his response. This is too important to be flip about, too important to try to make light of.

“It’s not that we don’t care.” Molly pulls Caleb closer until he’s situated in Molly’s lap, and Molly winds his tail around Caleb’s ankle, providing a bit of reassuring pressure. “We _do_ care. We care about you, that Ikithon hurt you, and misguided you, and twisted you until you didn’t know which way was up. We care that he’s still out there hurting people, that he might be looking for you. We care that he terrifies you, and poses a threat to you, that we almost lost you. We _do_ care, just not about the things you think we should.”

They sit for a few minutes, comfortable in the evening quiet. Molly is hesitant to break the calm, but he has to ask. “When that man found you yesterday, Nott said he called you something, something other than Caleb.”

Caleb trembles against him, but answers. “ _Ja_ , he did.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so, it’s alright. You don’t have to tell us more than you want to.”

“ _Nein_ , no, I- maybe it’s time you all knew this, as well.” Molly waits, stroking a hand through Caleb’s hair. “You know me as Caleb Widogast, but back then, before everything, that was not my name.” Caleb’s voice only cracks a little when he says, “My name was Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

“When did you change it? Was it after you ran away, or-?”

Caleb is already shaking his head. “No, I used many names. Caleb is just what I told Nott when I met her. I hadn’t expected to keep the name so long, but I suppose I am stuck with it now.”

“Would you rather we call you Bren? Which do you prefer?”

“Caleb, please. I don’t- I-” Caleb squirms in his arms before settling again. “I am not Bren. Not anymore, and I haven’t been for a long time. I don’t know that I can be him again, nor that I’d _want_ to be. I am just Caleb, now.”

“Alright.”

Caleb tilts his head up to look at Molly, mildly incredulous.

With a snort, Molly kisses Caleb’s forehead and gives him a squeeze. “Sweetheart, of all of us, I’m the one who’s _least_ likely going to give a shit over someone using a different name.”

Caleb huffs a quiet laugh, resting his head against Molly’s shoulder. “That...that is indeed a very fair point.”

They sit quietly another minute before Caleb asks, “How did you all find me?”

“Well, it wasn’t difficult to track the cart. We were concerned about trying to take it in broad daylight, and were worried about you getting hurt in the crossfire. We got ahead eventually by leaving the cart hidden on the side of the road and cutting through the woodland, but by the time you started to pass us, you escaped on your own. We mostly did cleanup, to be honest.”

“I will need to remember to thank Jester for what she did. It was very much appreciated.”

Molly tightens his arms around Caleb, tail squeezing around Caleb’s captive ankle, using the warm weight of Caleb’s presence to drive away the memory of pained screams from his mind; he could happily go the rest of his life without hearing Caleb sound like that again.

“And the rest of you of course.” Caleb turns his head and tilts it up to kiss Molly’s jaw before letting his head come back to rest on Molly’s shoulder.

“I hope you don’t intend to thank everyone else that way.” His voice is light and teasing, and he sees the corner of Caleb’s mouth tilt up in a barely-there smile. “Though if you _wanted_ to, we can always discuss-”

Another quiet breath of laughter from Caleb, and Molly’s chest warms. “I doubt Beauregard would much appreciate that sort of thanks from me, Mollymauk. But I will keep the thought under advisement.”

The stars are coming out above them, barely visible through the trees overhead. From nearby, the sounds of their friends getting dinner ready and talking helps settle him, and the feel of Caleb in his arms further soothes him; they came uncomfortably close to losing Caleb. They’ll have to talk with the group soon, and it’s likely to be an uncomfortable experience for all of them. For the moment, though, they’re all together again and safe, and that’s enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _cariad_ \- sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> I'm living on the edge and starting to post this before I've finished writing it! Aaaaaah!
> 
> My hope is to post a chapter every other day or so until it's finished. We'll see how that goes. *warily eyes her muse*
> 
> If you want to ask a question, yell at me, or just say hi, find me over on tumblr at [Analisegrey](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/), or on twitter at the same handle!


End file.
